


the end of sin and toil

by Kyele



Series: heirsverse [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014), d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Ending, F/M, M/M, Retirement, Through the Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4670939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyele/pseuds/Kyele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tumblr anon asked me: <i>imagine treville having kids in Ye Heirs and Richelieu tearing up when he finds out treville's pupped and they kiss and they all live happily ever after the end</i></p><p>And it got me to thinking: What would happen - what would change - if the characters took some shortcuts in the pursuit of their happy ending?</p><p>(AU from chapter 28 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2718833"><i>ye heirs of glory</i></a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the end of sin and toil

_“Three months?” Richelieu says, mouth dry._

_“I suppose it’s romantic of me,” Treville mutters. He clears his throat and meets Richelieu’s eyes. “I was counting from Pignerol,” he admits. “I know you didn’t formally start courting me until later, but – well, it seemed – ”_

“Seemed?” Armand’s heart feels like it’s going to burst.

Treville blushes. “It seemed appropriate.”

“Treville,” Richelieu falters. “I – ”

“That’s another thing I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Treville interrupts, leveling a playful finger at Richelieu. “Don’t you think it’s about time you called me _Jean_?”

Armand’s lips shape the name _Jean_ without conscious intent on his part.

Treville – _Jean_ – looks amused. “Maybe try it with a little more volume this time?” he suggests.

“Jean,” Armand manages to say. “You’ve been counting from Pignerol?”

“I suppose you’re counting from my last heat.”

“I – I – ”

Armand’s throat closes up and for a moment he can’t speak. In lieu of words, the events of the last three months flash before his eyes. Offering Jean shelter during his last heat. Armand’s demands afterwards. He can see it now, how his words could have been misinterpreted.

 _If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it my way,_ Richelieu had snapped. _You’re going to stay in contact with me. You’re going to talk to me. You’re going to keep me involved._

 _You sound like you want to live at my side,_ Treville had sniped back.

 _I’m certainly going to find out,_ Richelieu had said.

In retrospect, he’s lucky Jean hadn’t punched him.

And since then the two of them have practically been living in each others’ pockets. They’ve hammered out agreements about the military, the Underground, and the Resistance. They’ve met each others’ allies. They’ve worked together at court. They’ve shared meals. And secrets. Aside from Jussac, no one in France knows as much about Richelieu as Treville now does.

They _have_ been courting.

“Armand?” Jean’s voice takes on a hint of uncertainty. “Are you all right? You’re worrying me.”

That galvanizes Armand. “I’m so sorry,” he says immediately. “I was just shocked.”

Treville drops his gaze. “It _is_ too soon,” he says to himself.

Too soon?

 _I wanted to talk to you about your schedule for the next month or so_ , Jean had said. _I’m considering a journey of sorts. It’s been a while since I was on my estates._

“Three months,” Armand says aloud. “This journey you speak of – you mean your heat?”

“Forget I said anything,” Jean says hastily.

“No!”

Jean winces. “I’m sorry – ”

“No, no – ” Armand is making this worse. He bolts upright from his chair and comes around to the other side of the table. He reaches for Jean.

Jean stares at him dumbly.

Armand drops to his knees. “I was surprised,” he admits. “But – ”

But. But it bursts in on Armand suddenly. Jean has believed they’re courting. Jean has been _glad_ they’ve been courting. Jean has said, _I had no idea it was possible to be this happy._

 _Armand_ has made Jean happy.

Their courtship may have been a lie, but Armand’s feelings are true. How could it be otherwise? Jean is everything Armand could ever want and more. Brave. Determined. Dedicated. Loyal. Selfless. Giving. Dauntless. An entire dictionary would not suffice to describe Jean’s positive qualities. There are other words Armand could use, too. Words like _beautiful._ Words he’s never allowed himself to think of another living soul. Words that Armand will never be able to use again without thinking of Jean.

“You don’t care that I can’t give you pups?” Armand manages to ask.

Jean’s face softens. “Is that what you were worried about?”

Among many other things. But it’s not a lie when Armand nods.

“I’d made my decision long before I ever truly knew you,” Jean says simply. “I chose a soldiering lifestyle, remember? There’s no room for pups in that decision. I’m a prominent court figure now. I’m to be Captain of the King’s personal guard. How could I disappear for a year to carry and whelp? What kind of carrier could I be to my pups? How would I raise them? How would I go back to soldiering, after? I have to fight for every ounce of muscle tone I have. And the way my body would change – I’m already a little too broad-hipped for a Beta. A little too round in all the wrong places.”

“You’re perfect,” Armand says before he can think. “You’re perfect now, and you’d be perfect then, too.”

“I did hope you might know a way for it to be possible regardless,” Jean admits. His eyes are suspiciously bright. “I’d love nothing better. But I know when a dream is just a dream.”

“If I could make it happen for you, I would,” Armand says. “If I could intercede with God to change just one thing – ”

Jean reaches down and puts a finger over Armand’s lips. “Then you’d change the way the Betas feel about our people,” he says. “And then none of us would have to hide.”

“I love you,” Armand says helplessly. It’s the only possible response.

Jean’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to say that,” he says, laughing a little. Trying to play it off. “Just because I was asking – I know it’s too soon.”

The doubt is written all over Jean’s face. It’s intolerable. Armand had never meant to reveal the depth of his feelings for Jean, but Jean must never be hurt because he doubts them. Armand had believed that Jean would be better off without him. But in the final analysis it’s Jean’s decision to make, and Jean must make it with full knowledge if his decision is to be true.

And Armand must find the courage to dare. To not turn his back on Jean, but to match bravery with bravery, and offer his own heart to match Jean’s – if Jean wants it.

Armand reaches out and gathers Jean’s hands up in his. Say, “Jean, I was enchanted by you from the moment you pinned me at Pignerol. I started realizing I cared for you when you held out your hand to me in Paris and all I could think about was how much all those other sires had hurt you. And I realized exactly how much I loved you when you opened your heart to me in return.”

Jean laughs. It’s an odd, wet, snuffling sound that makes Armand realize Jean’s crying. Armand opens his mouth again to soothe him, horrified at the thought of having made Jean weep. Something salty touches his own tongue, and he realizes he’s weeping too.

“Do you mean it?” Jean whispers.

“I do,” Armand swears with all of his heart.

Jean reaches down and brushes the moisture trail running down Armand’s cheek. “Come to Gascony with me.”

“I will.”

“Armand. I don’t just mean this one time.”

Armand clutches Jean’s hands tighter and dares to kiss him. It’s bright and searing like the rays of the noonday sun.

“Whither thou goest, I will go,” Armand promises.

Jean’s eyes flare electric. His answer is not in words.

* * *

Thirty years and four months later, the physical signs prove what they’d already known. Jean wakes up with a cry of pain, clutching his stomach, and empties its contents into the chamber pot Armand has had ready for weeks. Afterward, Jean peels the blanket away from his legs and grimaces at the slick pooling there.

“Well,” Jean sighs, “I’m pupped.”

“We knew you were,” Armand says gently. The side effects of the drug the Inquisition had given Jean are well documented. Jean’s heat had lasted four days before breaking, with ten distinct peaks. Rochefort does nothing halfway. Not even trying to murder Armand’s mate. Being pupped had been a foregone conclusion.

Jean nods, setting the chamber pot down. “I suppose we’d better talk to Aramis.”

The d’Herblay siblings are the de facto medics of their little clan. Each has specialized in their own sex. Aramis has been staying in the farm-house for the last week, waiting to confirm Jean’s pupping.

The interaction between the Musketeers and the Resistance – between Athos’ pack and Armand’s – hasn’t been easy. There are too many points of friction. But there are just as many points of connection. And even though Athos and Milady are uneasy together, and Aramis is outright furious with Adele, everyone cares for Jean. Jean is the glue that holds them all together, Captain and clan head, carrier figure and confidante.

Armand has always known how special Jean is. The additional proof is unnecessary. But seeing the others come together, and return to Jean devotion for devotion, is gratifying nonetheless.

Out in the main room, Aramis doesn’t take long to nod. “As we suspected.”

Jean touches his stomach in wonder. “Pups.” He looks up at Armand and his eyes widen. “Beloved?”

Armand shakes his head. He can’t speak. He’s too busy trying not to cry.

Porthos sets down the armful of firewood he’s brought in – he’s staying with Aramis, of course – and claps a hand on Armand’s shoulder, Alpha to Alpha. “Congratulations,” he says gruffly.

Armand makes himself return the gesture, though his eyes stay, magnetized, on Jean’s midsection. Jean and Aramis are hugging. No one’s eyes are dry.

“They’ll be born at midsummer,” Jean says, soft and awed. “We’ll leave the windows open in the nursery, and they’ll grow up with the scent of flowers. They’ll crawl through the leaves in the autumn. They’ll learn to walk in the paddock in the soft grass in spring so it won’t hurt when they fall.”

“How many?” Armand whispers.

Aramis manages a smile through his tears. “Three,” he says.

 _Three._ Armand finds himself sitting in a chair with no memory of how he’d gotten there. Three.

Jean laughs in delight. “Armand! Did you hear that? Three!”

“I heard,” he manages to say. His cheeks hurt. Armand realizes after a moment that he’s smiling.

“Three,” Jean says again, like he can’t believe it.

Armand has to close his eyes. The happiness is beyond his ability to contain. In the brief moment of silence and darkness, he gives thanks to God.

When he opens his eyes again, he sees his mate’s smiling face, and in Jean’s eyes Armand reads all the years of happiness that are yet ahead of them.

* * *

Jean retires as Captain of the Musketeers shortly thereafter. Louis pouts, but Treville’s no longer young, and no one else seems surprised that Treville would prefer to spend his remaining years on his estates than at court. Louis makes Treville promise to return to Paris occasionally, and Treville returns the favor by inviting Louis to Troisville. This makes Richelieu nervous, but as Treville points out, Louis has always known Jean’s sex. And Louis still longs for children, all these barren years later. Once he learns that Treville’s pupped, Louis will be a vital ally.

Treville doesn’t actually go to Troisville. He returns to the Richelieu estates and the farm-house in the center of the hunting grounds. D’Artagnan is still there, wide as a horse, having never left after Treville had come so close to death at Rochefort’s hands. There’s no time left for his pack’s original plans, so d’Artagnan accepts Richelieu’s offer of a safe harbor gratefully. Aramis takes a leave of absence to come and stay with them both.

Charlotte and Adele promptly take semi-retirement from Resistance work to join them. The farm-house is already their home; they live there when they’re not on a mission, and share the caretaking duties between them. Charlotte loves the expansion to her household. She can never have pups of her own, not after what the Inquisition had done to her, but watching d’Artagnan and Jean swell seems to fill some empty place in her heart.

Adele comes because Aramis is there. It takes months, and it will take years more, but by the time Jean is round to bursting the two of them have managed to at least suture the worst of their mutually inflicted wounds.

Jean whelps at midsummer, as he’d predicted. Their pups are born healthy and strong. D’Artagnan’s twin three-month-olds peep in on the downy bundles, uncoordinated hands pawing at Alpha Nicol, Omega Jeanne, and Beta male Robert. Jean smiles tiredly down at all of them, falling asleep between one moment and the next, exhausted from his labor. Armand stays up. He can’t take his eyes off any of them.

Going back to Paris after that is one of the hardest things Armand’s ever done. For six months he splits his time between his heart and his duty, riding back and forth between the capitol and his estates. Armand spends more time on the road than at court or with his family. He hates it. For the first time, Armand’s sense of duty fails to compensate for the sacrifices he’s making.

Finally Jules corners Armand on it. “You’ve been training me for nearly a decade now,” Jules says bluntly. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to take over for you. And your heart isn’t in it any more, not even in the Resistance. Don’t you think it’s time?”

Armand has to smile. Andreas’ oldest is bright, fierce, and sharp as a whip. And Jules is right. He _is_ ready.

But: “It’s hard to let go,” Richelieu admits.

Mazarin grins. “Don’t worry. If push comes to shove, I’ll still know where to find you.”

* * *

Cardinal Richelieu would never retire voluntarily. It requires the diagnoses of three separate physicians and an order direct from Rome before he admits that his heart isn’t as strong as it ought to be. Along with the Pope’s order comes a Cardinality for Mazarin, Richelieu’s protégé, and his Holiness’ personal promise that Richelieu will still be consulted on Inquisitorial matters at the highest levels. Richelieu bows to necessity and retires to his estates, where he spends all of his time writing to Mazarin and the King.

Jussac and Athos replace most of the servants with old Musketeers, retired Underground insiders and Resistance operatives who need a safe place to stay. The household as a whole is greatly reduced. Richelieu never intends to hold a fancy dinner-party again, and his clan are all used to shifting for themselves. Their needs are simple. What they mainly need are nannies, and the Underground provides those.

Their clan’s offspring grow up bright and strong. In the summers they run wild on the estates, learning self-sufficiency and survival in the forests and streams. In the spring and fall they learn gardening and agriculture. In the mornings they learn to shoot; in the evenings they learn swordsmanship. In the winters their education turns classical. They study Greek and Latin, the writings of the philosophers, mathematics and alchemistry.

The seasons come and go. So do the members of Richelieu’s clan. Adele and Milady return to active duty. So do Aramis, Porthos and Athos. D’Artagnan doesn’t. His first two are soon joined by a third, and then another set of twins. After a decade apart from them all Athos reaches the same conclusion Richelieu had and retires. No one cares what happens to two Musketeers; no one notices when d’Artagnan and Athos move into the Richelieu manor entirely.

Porthos doesn’t last long in the job Athos leaves to him. Richelieu has a word with Mazarin, who writes to Andreas, who sends to Alfonse. Through long and twisty routes across Eastern Europe come three precious doses of the drugs Aramis needs. The first doesn’t work. The second does. Aramis tucks the third away against some future need and whelps his longed-for heir when the first snows sweep the Richelieu estates on the fortieth year after Jean and Armand mate. Porthos holds his infant pup in his arms – Flea, an Omega – and turns in his commission the next day.

Adele hasn’t left the Richelieu estates since Aramis had conceived. Her retirement is a formality. Milady stays on active duty the longest. But eventually she takes one dangerous job too many. She comes home to recover and never leaves again.

Jeanne’s gifts lead her to the Resistance; she bombs her first caravan at twelve, with her parents right beside her. Nicol makes her debut as the Duchesse de Richelieu, supposedly a niece of the Cardinal’s, and goes to court. Robert enters the seminary. Mazarin needs an apprentice.

All of them swear to Armand that they’ve chosen their paths freely. Armand does his best to believe them. Their smiles and laughter are his joy, and Jean holds Armand at night and whispers reassurances until the dawn breaks in the east.

Armand and Jean live out their days on Armand’s estates, surrounded by their clan and their family, keeping the promises they’d made to each other long ago. Even into their old age they still continue their work, for the Inquisition never sleeps, and there are always throwbacks in need. But they make time for each other, too, and for the pups that are the fulfillment of their life’s dreams. And hardly a day goes by when they don’t go back to the snug lodge at the center of the grounds. Even in retirement, Armand still loves to hunt.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [to my tumblr](http://timeforalongstory.tumblr.com/post/113958307545/imagine-treville-having-kids-in-ye-heirs-and) in March 2015, or about two-thirds of the way through the writing of _heirs_. 
> 
> I said at the time that this was the sad ending, and I couldn't explain what that meant then without giving the true ending away, but it's sad becuase - although Armand and Jean themselves live a happily ever after, and so do many of the other members of their clan - the Inquisiton remains in power. Anne and Richelieu never learn each others' secrets. Throwbacks continue to be oppressed. Louis dies without an heir, and the ensuing Fronde is a setback for throwbacks that pushes back their peoples' liberation two generations. Mazarin doesn't live to see it either; his adam is the one who, in Louis XVI's time, orchestrates the French Revolution and overthrows the monarchy and Rome alike. The ensuing regime is much less stable than the one Richelieu and Anne are able to put into place, and France goes through its historical periods of chaos, including the Napoleonic Empire, which they skip when they follow the path in mainline _heirs_.
> 
> The key difference is that, in this fic's AU, Armand and Jean never have that crucial fight at the very beginning of their relationship. That fight triggered a period of self-examination and shared discovery that enables them to form the strong relationship they have in mainline _heirs_. Without it, Armand and Jean flounder in developing as deep an understanding of each other and as solid a relationship. That has several minor effects that ultimately culminate in Jean _not_ running back to Paris at the end of Chapter 36. This AU's Jean doesn't have the same self-knowledge to know that what's right for him is to go back, and he doesn't have the same rock-steady faith that Armand will follow him, either. 
> 
> That ultimately allows Richelieu to control the fallout from Rochefort's schemes and pack Rochefort back off to Lille in disgrace, and they count that as a victory. But it robs them of their chance to team up with Anne and throw the Inquisition out once and for all. Throwbacks go on dying for another two generations, and that's why this is the sad ending, though through the miracle of privilege our main characters make out fairly well regardless.


End file.
